


утка

by pai_n



Category: SMP live, Untitled Goose Game, Wilbur Soot - Fandom, jschlatt - Fandom, soothouse
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Non-romantic friendship, Untitled Goose Game - Freeform, Wholesome, animal and human friendship, farm, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pai_n/pseuds/pai_n
Summary: Based off Jschlatt’s let’s play of “Untitled Goose Game”.Wilbur’s a farmer and Schlatt’s an annoying, lonely goose.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 43
Kudos: 421





	1. I Think I Will Cause Problems On Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, welcome to the fluffiest story I will ever write. This will hopefully heal some of our corrupted souls. Also I wrote it at 2am so please ignore any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy! :)

**Honk!**

Oh my god, Wilbur’s gonna _murder_ that goose.

Every morning at six, that little feathered bastard decides it’s time to get up and start honking like he’s a taxi in New York rush hour traffic. 

Wilbur hates that goose. He doesn’t know where the thing came from, or why it’s on his farm, and he definitely doesn’t know what it wants from him. Is it trying to annoy the life out of him? Does it want to take over the farm? Is there some other superior motive going on here? Wilbur doesn’t know, or care. He just wants the thing off of his land and out of his life.

He’s owned this farm for 2 years now, inherited from his father (who died from being stung to death; he was allergic to bees and decided to poke a stick at a hive of them), Yet he had never encountered a problem like this before. This goose, or as Wilbur liked to call it, “little bastard”, thought he owned the farm now. He swam in his pond, he ate his grass and his flowers, and he Honked. So. Much.  
Wilbur tried to chase him away everyday, but the little demon was too fast. He had to think of a plan, and he had to think fast, before this goose drove him completely off the walls. 

—————————-

The goose, on his behalf, wasn’t doing anything inherently wrong.

Schlatt had been trying for months to find a pond that had enough protection and resources for a bird like himself. He stumbled upon Wilbur’s farm after a long hard journey across lands, which included fighting off a total of five dogs, waddling through a blizzard, and almost getting eaten by a bear. He deserved a break, and there one was; a prestige pond surrounded by fences and food, perfect for a weak and tired goose who’d just been put on an exhausting adventure. So he settled down there, planning to just stay a night or two.

It was just too good to waste.

Schlatt couldn’t leave this perfect goose homeland, even if there were some downsides. For example, the owner of the farm, Wilbur, (Schlatt learned that from reading the farms signs; yes he could read, geese were smarter than humans gave them credit for) continuously tried to chase the goose off of his farm, but to no avail. Schlatt could outrun the human easily, and laughed as he did so, though he supposed to the human it just sounded like a lot of honking. Early every morning, Schlatt said thanks to Mother Earth for giving him such an amazing pond, and every morning, Wilbur would shout “shut up, you stupid fowl!” or even worse things, always telling him to be quiet in some way or another. Schlatt didn’t care. If he was being honest, he liked hearing Wilbur yell at him. It was lonely on this farm, with no other geese in sight, so hearing the humans voice everyday was the only thing he had going for him.

So Schatt decided he would stay, no matter what Wilbur threw at him. Once a goose makes up its mind, nothing on Earth could change it.

After a few days of living on the pond, Schlatt saw Wilbur come out with a trowel and start planting seeds in the garden by his house. Schlatt heard him humming to himself, and realized with a pang that he was craving interaction; the only noises on this farm (other than Wilbur) were the sounds of the machinery and a few animals passing by here and there, like mice or pigeons. Jschlatt needed to interact with someone, even if they couldn’t understand a thing he was saying or doing. 

So he devised a plan, right there and then.

Wilbur didn’t see the goose right away. He was caught up in his own word, humming a song he had forgotten the name of and planting his crops for the summer. He didn’t see as Schlatt crept up behind him, didn’t see as he ran towards the young farmer, his beak open and ready to grab. He didn’t see Schlatt until Schlatt had already gotten the trowel and was running, honking and flapping his wings.

Wilbur yelled in shock and sprinted after the goose, arms outstretched and ready to grab the white feathers flapping in front of him. When Schlatt got stuck on the fence, Wilbur thought he had him. His fingers reached and _brushed_ against the feathers, but then Schlatt was free and running again. The goose hopped into the pond and for a few seconds, Wilbur debated going after him. He needed that trowel, but he wasn’t planning on having wet boots and pants all day. Then he looked up and saw the goose honking merrily at him, as though taunting him, and he knew what he had to do. 

He ran into the pond.

It took Schlatt a few seconds to even realize what was happening, but when he did, he swam like a goose about to be put in the slaughterhouse. He nearly got caught when his flipper got stuck on a log, but he managed, somehow, to escape Wilburs wrath yet again by running into the rose bushes. He knew Wilbur wouldn’t follow him into the bushes. The human was too big and the thorns would stab into him. Schlatt was small enough that he could maneuver around the thorns, and he even grabbed a rose along the way. He escaped! He was _unstoppable_! All Wilbur could do was yell profanities and curse the goose who came to his farm, took over his pond, and now, stole his damn trowel. 

Wilbur sighed, went inside, poured himself a bottle of whiskey and tried to forget about the goose that he could still hear honking, on his farm and in his nightmares.


	2. Peace Was Never An Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt gets himself into some trouble.
> 
> TW for mentions of cuts and bleeding. Definitely not graphic but it is mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for calling him Schloose. It is honestly improving my life by 500% percent and it’s absolutely hilarious. Also this one is longer, so buckle up. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster ;)

Wilbur had a plan. 

He drank a few drinks, he got his head together, and he devised the most flawless and fool-proof idea he could think of. He knew the goose left the pond everyday around 6pm, usually to grab a few buds off his plants and steal some things from his yard for no reason at all. So as soon as the goose left, Wilbur was going to set a trap. This trap would be a net, hidden just next to the pond in front of the spot Wilbur  _ knows  _ the goose walks on everytime he comes back from these little quests. The net will spring up when the goose walks over it, and boom. Then all Wilbur needs to do is take him back to the yard, put him in his car, and drive far far away until he can drop the goose off and never have to see him again. It was the perfect plan.

Schlatt was just getting ready to do his nightly farm haul when he heard the noise. He knew the sound; guttural and low, like an old car stuck in mud. He’d fought off plenty of wild dogs before, but this time was different. During his time at the pond, Schlatt had grown comfortable and, though he didn’t like admitting it, a little more on the plump side then he’d like to be. God he hopes Wilbur doesn’t like eating goose meat, because if he did, Schlatt would be the perfect candidate. Anyway, he was more fat and less combat ready than he was any other time he had to fight off these beasts, and he wasn’t sure he could now without getting seriously hurt. So he did the only thing that made sense. He ran. 

Dogs love playing chase

and oh boy

did this dog chase.

Schlatt had never been more terrified than he was then, being followed by at least 70lbs of pure hatred while he waddled for this life. He honked and he flapped, but nothing was going to stop this chase until the dog either caught up or Schlatt made it to safety. As the beast got progressively closer, the latter seemed more and more unlikely to happen. Schlatt was gonna get eaten by a  _ dog _ , of all things! This couldn’t happen. It couldn’t!

And it didn’t. Because right when the dog was about to pounce, and Schlatts short goose life flashed before his eyes, he heard a voice furiously yell out, “Get out of here you mutt! Get off my property! Out!” He looked up and saw Wilbur, pitchfork in hand, running towards the dog and shouting at it to scram. The dog, at least being smart enough to know when it was in big trouble, did indeed scram. But not until it gave one hard swipe to Schlatt, knocking him over and leaving a deep scratch on Schlatt’s side from its claws. Schlatt flopped down and honked weakly, his eyes filling with black spots as he lost blood.

“Oh god! oh no, oh no, oh no, what do I do??”

Wilbur was running around in a frenzy, trying to find something to stop the blood or at least cover up the injury. At last, he spotted an old blue towel strewn across a fence post. He grabbed it, wrapped it around the goose’s shivering body, and sprinted inside, his previous trap for the goose completely forgotten in light of the new crisis going on. 

The goose was completely knocked out, probably from all the blood that had left him. Wilbur didn’t know much about geese, but he did know a thing or two about treating blood loss, and he assumed that it was the same for humans as it was for these feathered fowls. There wasn’t much else Wilbur could do but throw on some gloves and get to work.

The first thing he did, of course, was wrap bandages around the goose’s body so they put pressure on the injury. He was sure the goose wouldn’t be too happy about this when he woke up but he had to stop the bleeding, that was the most important thing. He proceeded to grab a bucket of water and put it near the goose, so when he woke up he could drink the water and hopefully gain some fluids back into his system. Finally, he made sure the goose was lying so the injury faced up, and therefore healed faster. Wilbur didn’t really know what he was doing, but the blood had stopped going out of the small goose’s body, and that was what mattered right now.

When Schlatt woke up, it was to the sound of a door opening. Which was weird, because didn’t he live on a pond? Since when did ponds have doors? And why… why was he in a house? What was wrapped around him? What was going on?? Schlatt started calling out for help, honking loud enough geese on the other side of the world could probably hear him. He heard a brief “oh crap, he’s awake” before a blue shirt blocked his view and started making shushing noises, as though that explained anything. He honked back in return, frustrated and confused and above all, peeved off, because his side really hurt and he couldn’t get up to see why. He decided the next best thing would be to find out who’s in front of him, so he looks up.. And whaddya know, it’s Wilbur himself, looking more worried and stressed than Schlatt has ever seen him, even on the days when Wilbur is trying to chase him off the farm for the tenth time. 

“Listen, Mr. goose, it’s all gonna be ok. I’m gonna fix you up, alright? I know you can’t understand a word I’m saying, but that’s ok. A wild dog attacked you and you got a little banged up, so you’re just gonna stay here for a while. Please refrain from attacking me while you’re here. Also I got you some water, so there’s that.”

Mr. Goose?? And how  _ dare  _ he say Schlatt doesn’t understand a thing he’s saying! He’s an educated, sophisticated goose and he demands to be respected! My god, he’s never seen this blatant goosephobia since-

He was so insulted by Wilbur’s “jab” at him, he didn’t even register that Wilbur had said Schlatt was attacked by a dog until 5 minutes later. When he did, he let out a small goosely gasp, and memories flooded back to him. The dog, huge and terrifying, chasing Schlatt around the yard. It’s claws, sharp and dangerous, reaching out to him and striking him on his side. Wilbur picking him up and shouting “oh my god, oh my god, I need to stop the blood!” and then everything.. going dark. Ohhhh no. Was he in goose heaven? No, this isn’t good enough to be goose heaven. Goose hell? Well if it’s goose hell then goose hell ain’t so bad. If it’s not either of those, then Schlatt assumes he’s probably still alive. Though he feels like death. His side burns with sharp pain and he feels faint, not to mention extremely thirsty. Luckily for him, one of those things could be resolved pretty easily, if only he could reach the top of the bucket. He lifted his head, was overcome with nausea, and promptly flopped it back down again. Yeah, the water could wait. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.  
  


Wilbur watched the poor goose reach to get his water, fail, then unceremoniously flop his head back down. So the bucket was too high. That’s ok, Wilbur had an old dog water bowl that he could use instead. He hoped the goose wouldn’t mind being called Spots. That was the name ingrained on the bowl and Wilbur honestly couldn’t think of anything else to give him. Anyway, it didn’t really matter. It’s just a goose, right? Geese don’t care what you call them, as long as you give them food and water. He walked back with the new bowl in hand and placed it in front of the goose’s head, close enough that he could drink it without having to move his body. And oh boy, did that goose drink. Ten seconds later (or so it felt) the bowl was empty and the goose was honking up a storm. Wilbur figured he wanted more water and headed out, ready to refill it with fresh cold water for the injured goose.

Schlatt was humiliated. He was brought into a  _ human’s _ house, indirectly called an idiot, and now he was being given a bowl with the name Spots on it, AS IF he had spots on his clean and presine feathers! He took great pride in keeping himself well kept, and this was just insulting. Alas, he was thirsty, and he wasn’t about to turn down this offering, no matter how insulting. So he drank, and drank, and drank some more, until the bowl was empty and he could drink no more. Then he decided, just for the hell of it, to yell some insults to Wilbur. He couldn’t understand him anyway. He called him everything from a “pea brained hairless ape” to an “idiodic servant to the geese” as well as every other insult under the sun a goose like himself could think of. Wilbur just thought he wanted more water and left. _ Sigh,  _ How Schlatt wishes he could communicate with Wilbur. He’s got so many good insults and it’s such a waste if no one can understand them.   
  


Schlatt decides something needs to change. He turns on his big goose brain, and he comes up with the greatest, smartest, and possibly most insane idea a goose has ever had. Now, he just needs to find the right materials and get down to work. He can do this. He’s just  _ one _ waddle away from possibly the greatest invention ever known to goosekind, something that will change the course of history… forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, comment any thoughts, ideas, or just general things you want to say. And by god, please keep calling him Schloose. This chapter was a bit more on the comedic side, despite all the injury and stuff. I hope you guys enjoyed that. New chapter probably coming out in a day or two, I’ve got nothing better to do. Oh, by the way, Wilbur still doesn’t know the goose’s is named Schlatt, that’s why he’s always just calling him “goose”.


	3. Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting guys, I know I said I would update it in a day or two, but then I got sick, and exam week came up, blah blah blah. anyway, I’m back, Schloose is back, everyones back. So enjoy chapter 3!

Schlatt was going to learn how to write. He already knew English, and he knew what it was supposed to look like in writing, so he was sure he could do it with a little practice and determination. Earlier, he had gone on a goosechase to find a pen and some paper, and after a few hours of sneaking around and searching every corner of Wilburs house, he found exactly what he was looking for. Once he snatched the supplies, he waddled back to his little bed (it was actually a dog bed, but Schlatt didn’t mind, at least it was soft) and placed the tools down, dragging the blanket that was laying on the bed onto them so Wilbur wouldn’t see them and take them back. He couldn’t wait to get started. He was sure this plan would work. It had to.

Wilbur, out in the yard pulling weeds, was having a moral dilemma. He didn’t want this goose on his farm one bit, and he was getting real tired of hearing and seeing him in his house everyday, but he was also scared of kicking him out too early and having him hurt himself again. It took a while, but after thinking long and hard, Wilbur decided he would make Schlatt go back to his pond but he wouldn’t make him leave the farm... yet. The goose needed to recover a bit more before Wilbur did that. Even though he still didn’t like the little bastard, he felt a bit bad for him too. He was injured, after all. So as soon as Wilbur finished all his daily tasks, he came inside, picked up the dog bed that Schlatt was currently sitting on, and carried them all outside with not a second of warning. 

Schlatt was  **pissed** _.  _ He honked, he flapped his feathers, he did everything in his power to get this  _ stupid _ farmer to put him down. At one point, he even tried to jump down from the bed onto the ground, but when he got ready to jump he realized just how high up he was (Wilbur was around 6’5”) and he chickened out. Or, he supposed, he goosed out. Either way, he didn’t jump. He just kept honking angry and glaring at Wilbur as he was carried away from his nice warm home. The  _ audacity  _ of this farmboy, with his stupid overalls and messy hair. The absolute  _ disrespect!  _ Schlatt couldn’t believe it. He really thought they were getting somewhere, maybe even forming some sort of bond, but no. Apparently not. Schlatt felt himself being lowered and realized he was back on his pond again. Not the worst place to be, but a downgrade for sure from the nice house he was in only minutes before. He wouldn’t stand for this horrible treatment. He needed revenge. 

Wilbur was walking away from the raging goose when he felt a nip at his ankle. Peering down, he saw the goose was trying to bite at his ankles, and some of the hits were actually landing! That crap  _ hurt!  _ It felt like he was being stabbed with a tiny knife over and over again, but the knife was actually a really pissed off goose with nothing to lose. Wilbur tried to kick at the demon biting his ankles, but Schlatt dodged the attack easily. One point for the geese, zero for the humans. It turned into a twisted dance; Wilbur was dodging the gooses attacks while trying to strike back, and Schlatt was relentlessly biting and honking while avoiding the foot flying towards him. Wilbur didn’t realize, but the goose was backing him up closer and closer to the pond. It was only a matter of seconds now before…

_ Splash! _

Oops, there he goes.

Wilbur had slipped on the water bank. He felt the cold water seep into his clothes and on his skin, making him break into uncontrollable shivers. He gasped and cried out, clawing at the bank for traction as he attempted to find his footing again. All the while, Schlatt was honking with laughter and dancing around the pond where Wilbur lay sputtering and swearing. This was great! Schlatt was a genius! Write this in the history books! When Schlatt finally finished celebrating and glanced back at Wilbur, he could almost see the smoke coming out of the farmers ears. Uh oh. He was in trouble now.

Schlatt was at serious risk of becoming goose stew.

He had three options. Run, fight, or impress. Running wasn’t the best idea, as Schlatt was still injured, and breathing too heavily or moving too much caused pain to shoot through his body in hard waves. Fighting was the same. It worked earlier because he had lots of energy, but now he was just short of exhausted and he wasn’t sure if he could go for a round two. That left only one reasonable option. Schlatt must impress the judge to win the prize, which in this case, is probably either his land or his life, depending on how pissed Wilbur is. Luckily, Schlatt had the perfect tool for this problem, and it was lying right under the blanket beside him.

Schlatt had his pens and paper.

Wilbur stormed over to the villainous goose, ready to grab the foul fowl by his little feathered neck and throw him to the woods where he could never bother Wilbur again. He was sure he was going to do it…yet, he couldn’t help but hesitate in confusion as the goose threw up his blanket and stuck his beak underneath it. When the white bird emerged again, he had a pen and a small piece of paper. Now Wilbur was  _ really  _ confused. Where did this goose get these things? And what does he plan to do with them? What was going on??? He watched in shock as the goose carefully opened the pen, held it to the paper and started writing slow, messy letters, spelling out:

**S C H L A T T**.

Schlatt? Was that a code? Or an acrostic? Or was it… could it be… was that the goose's  _ name? _

Wilbur stared at the paper, then at Schlatt, then back at the paper. 

“Mr. Goose, I’m gonna sound absolutely crazy here, but that wouldn’t happen to be your name, would it?”

Schlatt was still disturbed by the whole “Mr. Goose” thing, but the excitement at being understood overpowered that by a long shot. He eagerly nodded his head, bobbing up and down in excitement as Wilburs eyes widened. He was being understood! No more honking desperately as he tried to get a point across, or flapping his wings in defeat when Wilbur once again called him the wrong name! Now he could finally communicate! Schlatt couldn’t be more happy than he was in that moment, as he honked and danced around the young farmboys feet in absolute goose joy.

“Well hello there Schlatt, I’m Wilbur. I’m the owner of this farm. I don’t know if you knew that already or not, because I don’t know if you could understand anything I’ve been saying. If you can understand, know that I’m very upset you knocked me into that lake and bit my ankles half to death, and I’m pissed about everything else you’ve done to me, but.. despite all that, I’m very happy to finally know your name.”

When Wilbur finished his speech, he looked down into Schlatt’s dark eyes, as though searching for some sort of answer from him. When he did so, a powerful emotion rushed through him, quick and bright and raw, burning in his mind and rushing through his body. In that quick split second moment, he knew. He knew Schlatt understood everything, he knew Schlatt had intelligence, he knew he was more than just a random clueless goose. He couldn’t name the emotion he felt in that brief second of time. All he knew was it felt.. human. It wasn’t like looking into the eyes of a wild animal. Schlatt had more humanity in his eyes then some actual humans Wilbur had locked eyes with before. It was a beautiful emotion.

“Schlatt. I know you understand me now. I don’t know why, but I do. I know you want to live on this farm. Honestly, I was ready to throw you to the wolves minutes earlier and call it a day. But now... Schlatt, I think I want you to stay. As long as you stop stealing my stuff, and you stay out of trouble, you can stay. Deal?”

Schlatt wasn’t sure he could stay out of trouble for too long, but he would certainly attempt to. He owed it to Wilbur to try his best, at least. Someone finally understood him, and that was worth more than any amount of stolen trowels or hats or anything else on this farm. Schlatt honked and extended his neck, so Wilbur could give his head a little pat, sealing the deal once and for all.

Wilbur, soaking wet and shivering, never felt more at peace in his life then he did patting that little goose's head. He could never kick Schlatt out now, not after this. They were in this mess together now, no matter what came their way. Wilbur and Schlatt, farmer and goose, willing to put their differences aside and grow closer, and keep each other company on this lonely farm in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the little bastard wasn’t such a bastard after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, leave a comment if there’s any scenes you think would be funny or if you just want to comment on the story. You guys are all awesome, thank you for supporting this story so much. Love you guys <3

**Author's Note:**

> How did you guys like that? Please comment below if there is anything at all you think I should change in the next chapter, or what I should keep the same, etc etc. This is very open story (I haven’t really even thought of a plot yet) so any suggestions are highly appreciated! Thanks for reading.


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